


Audience with a Tyrant

by Misgel



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Decepticons Won, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misgel/pseuds/Misgel
Summary: Humanity lost the war against the Decepticons. Now each District must select one boy and one girl to participate in a match to the death for the sadistic race's entertainment. Katniss took the place of her sister, unknowingly drawing the attention of the conqueror of their world.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Audience with a Tyrant

I was shaky and jittery. I sat on the luxurious, plush couch, so pristine and so comfortable usually I sunk into it and almost instantly sunk into sleep. Instead, I was rigid as a statue, hands holding the armrests in a death grip, knuckles turned white. Judging by the pale shade of Peeta’s face, he wasn’t much better.

I still couldn’t get my idea around it. Megatron, Lord of the Decepticons and Emperor of the Earth, wanted to speak with _us_. The idea was so absurd, I had as much trouble accepting it as when I volunteered for this stupid Game. We were told that Megatron was visiting all the tributes as a new approach, but it was a lie. Haymitch proved it was a lie.

Megatron _never_ talked with the tributes.

He had no reason, nor interest, to interact with a lower species, especially those who would be dead in a matter of days. He only allowed that privilege to the Champion of the Pits, and Haymitch had told it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Our trainer have given us a crash course how to speak to the Emperor, before he fled the room with Starscream.

Most of it were the things that I already knew, but then I realized, there was no preparing when it came to Lord Megatron. Don’t look him in the eye, speak levelly and politely, address him as “your Excellency.” Not Lord. However, Haymitch added his own piece of advice: say as little as possible. The more you spoke, the more the silver-tongue tyrant could twist your words. I decided to stick to the “don’t speak unless spoken to” rule.

I wasn’t expecting the Emperor to knock or give a greeting, but the _swoosh_ of the door opening made me jump. I was on my feet in an instant and almost screamed, turning around to face the Decepticon lord.

It took a full second for my mind to realize it was _him_ , the monster that destroyed billions of lives and enslaved just as many and was responsible for this fucked-up world. A world where some districts lived fat and happy and others starved and died, where they each turned against each other as they sacrificed their children for a sadistic race’s entertainment. But he was _small_.

Rather than the titanic, building-sized Emperor, Megatron was almost the size of a human, barely seven feel tall. However, he was still as intimidating as ever. His broad, jagged shoulders filled the threshold, his sterling silver armor was polished and glinted in the artificial light, deadly claws flashed as they tucked behind his back. Those crimson optics were like smoldering coals, dim and almost memorizing, but dangerous to the touch. Megatron’s razor-sharp fangs reminded me of a panther before it lunged for the kill.

I had seen plenty of pictures and videos of him, mostly recorded speeches or footage of previous Hunger Games. A matter of days ago, I saw him for the first time in person as he greeted the tributes. But seeing him up _close_. I felt a chill crawl down my spine, and I prayed he didn’t see my shiver. He didn’t act like it.

“Please, sit,” Megatron offered in a calm, polite, almost _friendly_ tone as he raised a clawed hand. “I hope I did not startle you.”

My throat was painfully dry, but of course Peeta did not miss a beat. Sitting halfway out of the chair, he calmly relaxed again but said quickly, “Of course not, your Excellency. We were merely… anxious to be graced in your presence.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. I was a terrible liar. Everyone told me that. Decepticons had a radar for that, and I was sure their lord was a master of it. I didn’t let his soothing purr reach my ears. I reverted back to my own rule: All Decepticons were liars. Don’t believe a word they say.

“So I see,” Megatron observed with a chuckle. He glanced at the furniture we resided on and tilted his head. “May I sit?”

“You may,” Peeta replied, already jumping from his spot from the couch and taking one on mine.

With a swallow, I joined him, my eyes never leaving our “guest.” Megatron dipped his head in gratitude, and crossed the space in a slow, controlled stride. This meeting would be on his time, not ours. I realized why Peeta gave him the whole couch—he needed it with his wide girth. The piece of furniture even squealed underneath his _heavy_ weight, but showed no signs of breaking.

“I must say, I am impressed by your display at the Opening Ceremony,” the Emperor began, continuing in that seductive drawl. “Your stylist did very well.” He grinned. “And you pulled it off very nicely.”

“Thank you, your Excellency,” Peeta hummed. He glanced at me, and I had to remember how to work my tongue.

“Yes… thank you,” I stammered.

It was the first time I spoke, and instantly Megatron seized it like a lion jumping on a gazelle.

“They are already calling you the ‘Girl on Fire,’ you know,” he added, before turning to Peeta. “And you, I hear, have already charmed every female in the Capital.”

Peeta managed a sheepish smile. I hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it. I doubted Megatron had left the comfort of his throne to flatter insignificant insects. I was relieved when suddenly the Decepticon lord’s countenance sobered.

“But I hope you realize it will take more than good looks to win the Games,” he explained.

“We know that,” I blurted. Then I realized I broke Haymitch’s rule and I felt those burning optics focus on me.

“Good. It has been quite some time since District 12 has given us a Champion.” It was in a praising tone, but I could hear the threat and insult behind it. I tried not scream as that predatory gaze narrowed, analyzing every inch of my body. “Did they tell you were the first volunteer in your District’s history?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Then you must be very confident in your abilities.”

I realized immediately it was a trap. No one from District 12 had _ever_ volunteered for the Hunger Games. Most tributes were the first ones to be killed. There were very few that had actual skill, and fewer than would boast about it. If there was anyone.

If I agreed, Megatron would know I was lying, and question my every intent. If I disagreed, he would be curious why I broke a 73-year-old record.

“I… would like to believe I am better than most,” I forced out slowly. There, I think that was a good compromise.

“Good enough to win the Games?”

“We shall see.”

That grin widened, and I tried not to cringe. Peeta looked proud that I was able to hold my own. I thought my inspection was over, and almost dared to breathe, but then suddenly Megatron continued.

“I am told there was another that was supposed to be in your place.”

I couldn’t stop my muscles from stiffening and the horror that filled my chest. Looking up into that gaze, I realized I had stepped right into the jaws of death. He _knew_.

“Yes, your Excellency.” It was the hardest thing I had to say.

“Was she someone special to you?”

Somehow it became harder to speak. “…..My sister.”

Megatron nodded slowly, like I confirmed a theory he had to begin with.

“I find your concept of ‘family’ quite curious,” he said. “I have seen human cohorts tear each other apart, and—” He grinned. “—I have seen a beautiful girl take the place of her younger sister.”

I wondered if he wanted an explanation to this absurd mystery, but I didn’t have an answer. Instead, I said simply, “It’s family.”

He hummed, but I doubted his curiosity was satisfied. The Emperor leaned closer, enough that all he had to do was reach out and slice his claws into my flesh.

“Would you win the Games, if it meant seeing your sister again?” he asked, genuinely curious.

What I would _give_ to see Prim again. Part of me wanted to say “yes,” that I would do anything to go home and forget about this awful nightmare. But I realized it was next to impossible. There were twenty-four of us, and only one came out. Over half of my fellow tributes, my enemies, were smarter, faster, stronger than me, and far more skilled. And one was sitting right next to me.

“I… would want her to be safe,” I decided on.

“And I am sure she is very grateful of your sacrifice.”

It was the equivalent to a knife to the heart, and it took all my self-control not to flinch. Suddenly that dangerous drawl was gone, replaced by that friendly, diplomatic tone of an Emperor.

“I am eager to see your progress,” he announced. “You both seem to have great potential. It will make an interesting match, I think.”

This time neither of us, not even Peeta, replied. Megatron stood back up with surprising grace, claws folded behind his back.

“I wish you both the best. Peeta, make your parents proud, and Katniss—” I flinched. “—remember to fight for your sister.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if it was a threat or not, but I was all too aware how Megatron was staring at me with a completely different gaze. Like I was a diamond in a coal mine. However, he regarded us both as he dipped his head.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.”


End file.
